


Special Ops � The Invite

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Holiday, Humor, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-06
Updated: 2007-12-06
Packaged: 2018-12-17 17:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11856261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: #3 in The Rocking Chair Series. Remember Daniel's wild hair? SG-1 goes on a wild midnight adventure, in the middle of another snowstorm, and this time they're taking hostages. Mild language warning.





	Special Ops � The Invite

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Special Ops – The Invite

Sam’s POV

“Yes, sir. I’ll . . . be there, sir. With bells on . . . Right, sir, special ops, I’ll leave the bells at home. Yes, sir, see you in a bit!” I hang up the receiver and stare bemused at my lab phone while the reality of what I’ve just been invited to sinks in.

Holy Hannah! This must be what it feels like to be invited to the Prom. Everything inside of me wants to jump and hoot and holler! At the very least I need to pump air and scream YES at the top of my lungs. However, there are security cameras in every nook and cranny of the base and SF’s watching our every move 24/7, so I think I’ll just crook that elbow – yep, like that, just slightly – make a fist, and quietly whisper – YES!

Imagine that! Samantha Carter, geekiest girl on the block just got invited to the dance by the coolest guys in the galaxy! And I don’t have to decide which one I want to go with – I can have them both. YES!

Keep it cool, Major, you’re still at work. Only inside happy dances allowed; you’ve got a reputation to maintain, my girl. 

I’ve got most of my upper body contorted inside one of the bottom cupboards on the far side of the lab when my phone rings again. 

Maybe they forgot something and need me to bring it. “Carter,” I bark breathlessly, having landed on my ass trying to back out without smacking my head on the cabinet.

“Sam?

“Hey, Janet. What’s up?”

“You okay? You sound out of breath. Nothing going on over there is it?” Janet asks suspiciously.

“I’d hardly be answering the phone if there were,” I reply with a slight touch of asperity. “Half of me was in one of the bottom cupboards in my lab trying to find something when the phone rang. I was trying to get to it before it went to voicemail.”

“Oh, what were you looking for that required you to be halfway in the cabinet?”

“An old backpack. They’re deep and I don’t have the best lighting back there.”

“Did you find it? Because I have an old one of Cassie’s in my office if you can’t find yours. You might have to empty stuff out of it, but you’re welcome to use it. What do you need it for?”

While he didn’t specifically tell me not to tell anyone, I assume, since the Colonel made it clear it’s just the four of us tonight, I’m not supposed to tell. Even Janet. The wheels are spinning uselessly. I’m so bad at lying, especially when caught like a deer in the headlights.

“The Colonel just called,” I improvise, trying not to hem and haw while trying equally hard to come up with a plausible scenario. “Uhm, apparently we’re going skiing.”

“Sounds like fun. Taking Daniel?”

“Yes.” That’s it! Perfect! “We’re taking Daniel night skiing. Kind of a spur of the moment trip. The Colonel just called,” I babble stupidly.

“You just said that.”

”I did? Oh, yes, I did. Anyway, we’re going skiing. Did you need me for something?”

“Well, I guess that nixes that idea. Cassie and I were wondering if you’d go shopping with us this afternoon if we bribed you with supper.”

“That sounds like fun, too, but we’re leaving shortly and won’t be back until late tonight. Can I take a rain check?”

“Sure. Have a great time, Sam. Too bad we can’t go with you guys, but Cassie has Hands-on-Science this afternoon and won’t be home until after four. I promised her we’d go shopping for a new coat. She was hoping you’d be able to come with us.”

“Darn, I’d really like to go, just not tonight. If you don’t find anything, I could go with your later. And I’ll tell the Colonel we need to plan ahead next time, so everyone who wants to come can be included.”

“That’d be great. Listen, you have a wonderful time and make sure the Colonel keeps a close eye on Daniel, would you. I don’t even want to imagine what having a bored, immobile, thirty-four-going-on-six-year-old would do to my staff.”

I try for a light, convincing laugh. “We’ll take turns with him on the bunny slope, or let him ski with one of us. Don’t worry, I promise we won’t let him get hurt.”

“Famous last words,” Janet responds merrily. “Well, you can be certain I will be doling out Daniel entertainment schedules if he does wind up in my infirmary.”

“So noted, Dr. Frasier,” I respond, with a genuine chuckle. “Give Cass hugs from me and you guys have a good time too. I’ll catch up with you about that rain check.”

“Okey dokey. All of you be careful, ya hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hey, Jack O’Neill doesn’t have exclusive rights to mother-henning.”

My peal of laughter might be a release of nerves, but the instant picture of a clucking Colonel is hilarious. “See you tomorrow. Bye, Janet.”

So the backpack is finally unearthed and I have it unzipped and lying open on my counter when General Hammond strolls through the open doorway. It’s a really good thing I buried the zat under the set of snow camo’s. 

He barely glances at it - because, I remind myself - he trusts us implicitly. “Major,” he greets me with a smile. “I’m looking for Major Davis, he was headed this way after I spoke with him a little bit ago.”

Love those Texas terms – a little bit ago can mean anything from ten minutes to six hours ago.

“I was hoping to catch up with him before he left the Mountain. Have you seen him?”

“No, sir. But I just got back to my lab a few minutes ago. I had a class down in the gym, sir.”

“And he didn’t find you there?”

“No, sir.”

“I suppose I should have put Walter on the trail immediately, might have saved myself a wild goose chase.” On a sigh he turns to leave, then stops and half turns back. “Is SG-1 scheduled off-world shortly?” he asks quizzically.

“No, sir. Not that I’m aware of.” I follow his gaze to the open backpack. ”Oh, the Colonel just called. They’ve decided to go night skiing on the spur of the moment, sir, and invited Teal’c and me to come along.”

A broad smile splits the round face. “Sounds like an excellent plan, Major. Just don’t let Dr. Jackson hurt himself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, then, have a good afternoon – and evening.”

“Thank you, sir. If Major Davis does stop by before I leave, I’ll be sure to tell him you’re looking for him, sir.”

“Thank you, Major. In the meantime, I’ll put Sergeant Harriman on his trail.”

As the General’s back disappears, I breathe a heavy sigh of relief and make absolutely certain the zat gun is well hidden in the folds of the jacket.

Back to packing. And channeling the Colonel. What do I have? What do I need?

Probably ought to throw in some chocolate bars out of the stash I keep on hand for Daniel. As an adult, he refused to keep them in his office because he said he could never resist their siren song. So I keep them on hand because I only crave chocolate around that-time-of-the-month and if I want company, all I have to do is call Daniel and open the drawer so he can smell it through the phone line.

Chocolate bars. Check.

Some of those hand-warmer snap packs might come in handy too. I throw a handful in on top of the snow suit, then grab a handful more thinking we can put them inside Daniel’s boots. He really hates being cold.

So, I’m not exactly primping for the Prom, but this, in my humble opinion, will be much cooler than any Prom.

Yes, I went to the Prom, only because my Dad made me. I still shudder thinking about that dress. 

Don’t go there, Samantha. That’s all water under the bridge now, as the Colonel would say. You’re a decorated Air Force major, Major, with a helluva career in front of you and no where to go but up. 

So take a rain check on that memory, too, and forget to cash it in.

Anyway – where was I? Oh, yes, packing.

Space blanket. 

I always keep emergency back-up stuff in my lab, in case the personnel packing our regular backpacks overlook something. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s saved spending a couple of hours hunting up requisitions on more than one occasion.

Space blanket. Check.

We’re not going to be gone long enough to need MREs, don’t have to pack those.

Ahhhh, first aid kit, though it won’t be much help in the way of broken legs. Okay – so extra gauze and maybe something small I could use for splints in a dire emergency. Check.

I’m not going to have room for much more in here and I need space for a thermos of coffee.

I do a quick mental inventory as I zip up the backpack. I’ll stop by Daniel’s office for the thermos, Starbucks for the coffee – and we’re off. 

The readings on everything look fine; I can walk off and leave the stuff running without fear of blowing up the Mountain, so I’m outta here.

Save those dancing feet for tonight, girlfriend, don’t forget those security cameras. But I do hope they’re wondering what I’m grinning about as I hum my way to Teal’c’s quarters.

I’m going to the ball, and nobody’s going to keep me from being Cinderella tonight.

~*~

Special Ops II – The Pre-Briefing

Teal’c’s POV

I am deep in a state of kel’no’rem when the annoying black box on the desk jangles jarringly, disturbing the holistic flow from my symbiote. Heeding its demand will only aggravate the young one I carry.

I sink deeper into the meditation, allowing the warmth and light of the myriad reflections of fire to obliterate the present and cocoon me in that space that is health and strength to a Jaffa.

A light knock on my door disturbs me sometime later and I am recalled to the reality I have chosen as my life currently.

“Come.” The door opens as I am rising, stretching muscles gone lax with the depth of kel-no-rem, and MajorCarter leans around the door.

“Did the Colonel get a hold of you, Teal’c?”

“I have been unavailable the last hour or more, MajorCarter. I have not spoken to O’Neill today.”

“Oh,” she states and I cannot determine if it is disappointment or disapproval that colors her tone.

I clasp my hands behind my back and wait to accomplish the snuffing out the kel’no’rem candles until she has declared her business.

“Well, you up for an adventure with the Colonel and Daniel tonight?”

I raise an eyebrow in question. “An adventure?” Visuals of the social entertainment known as jello wrestling immediately assault my inner vision.

“Yep, grab your gear and come with,” MajorCarter says, expertly channeling O’Neill.

Her unusual animation is intriguing, MajorCarter rarely permits her passionate nature free rein on base and though she is trying to stifle it now, I observe it is difficult for her to contain herself. “What gear will this adventure require I bring?”

“Ahh, well, maybe we should stop by the locker room,” she says, flashing a glance around my utilitarian domain. MajorCarter steps inside. “Guess we should put these out so we don’t burn down the base while we’re gone, huh?” She licks her thumb and index finger and begins to snuff burning wicks. 

Following her example, I, too, move to extinguish candle flames. With two of us functioning at optimum speed the feat is quickly accomplished. 

“I am all ears, MajorCarter. What is this adventure we are about to embark on?”

“Come on, let’s go collect the stuff you’re going to need and I’ll tell you in the car.”

Fascinatingly, the “stuff” I require entails much of our usual off-world gear; including a complete snow camo suit and the extra zat nickatel we keep in our lockers in lieu of having to circumvent an alien incursion to obtain weapons from the armory.

“I’ve got everything else we need,” MajorCarter says, hefting the backpack she’s carrying a little higher on her shoulder.

I don the mud-colored, ribbed-knit hat that goes with our snow camo gear and move to open the door for MajorCarter. 

Oh, yes, I’m vastly intrigued. The energy flowing from my fellow teammate is nearly as invigorating as a state of deep kel-no-rem. 

Whatever this night has in store for us, it certain to be at least as pleasurable as jello wrestling, particularly as I will be participating in whatever it is O’Neill has planned for SG-1.

I have missed DanielJackson’s participation in our off-world missions. Tonight, it appears, we will remedy that situation.

~*~

Special Ops III – Pre-mission Jitters

Daniel’s POV

Call me crazy, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why Jack said yes to this. Furthermore, I have no idea how to slow down this train-wreck-waiting-to-happen, much less stop it.

I’m beginning to think this is something I have to be drunk for – I would never suggest such lunacy otherwise.

But then, maybe it’s just this manifestation. Janet keeps telling me the brain chemistry in a six-year-old is vastly different from the brain chemistry in a thirty-four-year old. Its times like this I gain a little better understanding of what she’s trying to impart. 

I’m terrified we’re going to get caught. My heart is pounding so hard I think it’s going to jump right out of my throat – that’s how scared I am – but I can’t tell Jack, especially not after he’s gone to all the trouble to enlist Sam and Teal’c in this operation too. I just have to suck it up and go through with this.

General Hammond will have a conniption fit if we get caught, especially since there’s not even a vaguely legitimate excuse for three adults and one midget to be pulling a stunt like this.

No Annise, no alien contraptions, not even an Urgo in sight we can shift blame too. We’re gonna be soooooo in trouble before this night is over.

But I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to be. 

I stretch my legs out on the bed I’ve occupied so often over the last four years, clasp my hands behind my head, and lean back against the desert sand drifting on the wall behind me.

The last time we did this I was trying to outrun demons with the help of a bottle and constant activity. It was just after we got home from the Gamekeeper’s planet.

Experiencing those emotions again at thirty-three – the horror of seeing my parents die over and over again, the terrifying inability to do anything, the whole recognition that my entire world had just been crushed, not to mention the added-value memories of the intervening twenty-five years – made the whole thing seem surreal. Like it was really all just a horrific nightmare I was bound to wake up from, even though it was twenty plus years later.

Sam got me through the initial debrief and then Jack dragged all of us to his place for the team debrief, which turned out to be more cathartic, but no less traumatizing. 

If it hadn’t been for Jack and Sam and Teal’c, MacKenzie would have had legitimate reasons to lock me up in that little white room again. 

But especially if it hadn’t been for Jack. On the surface we’re so disastrously different, most people can’t fathom how we’ve managed to become such good friends, let alone stay friends the way we bicker and fight.

I pull an arm down to run a hand over the flannel pillowcase covering the pillow I’m sitting on. It’s little things like this that have informed my opinion of Jack O’Neill more than anything I’ve gleaned from listening to him. 

Behind the wise-cracking, cliché-spouting exterior lives a man who sees everything and feels and cares deeply. Nothing escapes his attention, though to watch him bulldoze his way through life you’d think he’s oblivious to everything but thermonuclear blasts.

Perhaps only Sam and Teal’c and I are privileged to know the man who came home with flannel sheets the other night because he knows I hate the cold, and he quickly realized, in this manifestation, I’m even more susceptible to it. 

He never said a word; they were just on the bed when I crawled in that night. When I thanked him, he tousled my hair, smiled that enigmatic little smile of his, and wished me warm dreams. 

Manifestation. That would be Jack’s word for this hideously objectionable body I’m inhabiting, though I suppose it works as well as any.

This is just another manifestation of the Daniel Jackson we all know and love, he says. 

Yeah, right.

Though I have to admit, in this manifestation, acts of kindness translate much more readily into the language of love. 

Without making a big deal out of it – which is so not Jack’s usual way – he turned his life upside down and inside out to make a home for us. 

While things have moved around to accommodate my change in stature, hardly anything’s physically changed in the house in the way of furniture, etc., but the atmosphere certainly has.

Jack has deliberately, and with an _élan_ I would never have imagined him capable of, set about creating a sanctuary that so far eclipses anything I ever knew as a child, it’s occasionally intoxicating. I find myself, once in awhile, reveling in this madness.

Color me crazy, but there have been days when entire twenty-four hour periods have passed without a single thought of the thirty-four-year-old passing through my head. Usually because Jack’s packed the twelve hours preceding the twelve hours this body needs to sleep so full of six-year-old fun, I’m exhausted and often asleep, before we get home. 

The thirty-four-year-old recognizes the contentment this has afforded one surly Colonel. There are regrets Jack will never be able to lay down, guilt feelings he may never be fully free of, but this – situation – has renewed something in him, fanned to life the spark even the Stargate program couldn’t ignite to full-burn.

I know he feels guilty about it and is trying to keep it discreetly under cover, but if there’s one reason I’m can be thankful for this transformation, that would be it. It makes it easier to bear knowing someone I care about a great deal is benefiting from it. 

“Hey, whatcha doin’?” Jack steps through the doorway that - because of the three dimensional faux-painting on the wall - looks like an ancient Egyptian entrance into the tomb of Cheops. 

“Waiting.”

“You could come out into the living room and keep me company while we’re waiting,” he suggests.

We went away for a long weekend and came home to this room transformed into an incredible three-dimensional portal to the Giza plateau. It’s more than a sanctuary, it’s the kind of dream-room every kid imagines and every adult envies because they never had it. 

It was another one of those things Jack shrugged off with, “Glad you like it. I was worried it could go either way.”

And that was the end of it.

“Unless you want to take a nap,” he says now, leering at me comically. “It could be a long night, ya know.”

It took us about six hours when we did this previously, but then, there were only two of us. With four of us – well, three and a midget – it should go a lot faster, though I could very well be more of hindrance than a help in this manifestation.

Which cycles my thinking back around to the terror beating in my throat. “Jack?” I slide off the bed and walk, on not-so-steady legs, over to take his hand.

He immediately bends his creaking knees and squats so we’re on eye level. “What?”

“What if we get caught?”

He doesn’t automatically diss my terror, and I suspect he can see it clearly; he’s good like that, too. “We didn’t before. Why do you think we might now?”

I shrug. “Well, there will be four of us this time, which exponentially increases the odds of getting caught.”

Jack frowns as though giving this serious consideration. “Are you forgetting it also exponentially decreases the amount of time we’ll be out, which proportionately decreases the odds of getting caught? Besides, Carter and Teal’c are old hands at this kind of operation.”

“But what if I get caught alone?”

“Ahhhh,” he says knowingly, “that’s not going to happen. First of all, we’re not going to leave you alone. Second, you were great at this before, and now that you’re smaller you can melt that much easier into the shadows and disappear if the rest of us get caught. And I want you to promise you’ll do that, Daniel. So, if - god forbid - something does happen, someone can get in touch with the General to bail us out. Make sure your cell is charged and in your pocket, please.” He stops and considers for a moment. “I suspect being drunk off your ass might have helped these pre-mission jitters as well. Come on, let’s go find the scotch.”

Only Jack is allowed to pick me up without explicit permission and he never does it when anyone else is around. But I have to say, it feels kind of – good, I guess – when he does it. It’s been a very long time since I experienced the safe, warm feelings engendered when he does that.

“Are you really going to let me have scotch?”

“Sure, a teaspoonful, with lots of ice and water,” Jack chuckles. “We’ve got to have you prepared for this mission, Dr. Jackson. I can’t be dragging a whiny kid around tonight and if you breathe one word of this to Frasier, you can kiss your drinking days goodbye, my friend, until you’re eighteen again. Even teaspoonfuls. Got that?”

See, Jack gets it. Not only that, he understands far more than I ever gave him credit for when I was all adult. It’s curious to me that the meshing of child and adult has opened my eyes in so many unexpected ways.

Prior to this experience I would have argued vehemently that I’ve put a lot of effort into holding onto curiosity and openness – some call it innocence, though I beg to differ – I’ve always been willing to try it another way, to accept alternatives, to think creatively rather than traditionally.

I was clueless, though, about how much life’s experiences have colored how I see things now.

When I observe in this manifestation, everything seems brighter and clearer, less tarnished by my past life experiences. Whereas, when I revert to the thirty-four-year-old thinking it’s as though someone’s left a dull coat of silver polish over the tarnish and without bothering to rub it off.

I don’t want to lose my thirty-four-year-old memories. I don’t want to give up the life experience I’ve already worked my way through. Most of all I don’t want to give up being thirty-four. But it appears I may not have much choice in the matter.

Tonight is both a gift and a bribe all wrapped up in the bright packaging of being with SG-1. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to do anything with my whole team and I’m looking forward to this, even though I’m terrified.

When this is over, I know Jack’s going to insist we get in touch with Thor and the Teprins and I know he’s right, but that terrifies me even more.

It occurs to me, though, whatever happens - tonight or over the next few days and weeks - I’ll have Jack and Sam and Teal’c on my six. And maybe, a teaspoon of scotch to ward off the chill that’s lodged itself in my stomach.

Not everybody is lucky enough to have friends like that. I’ve very thankful I do.

~*~

Special Ops IV – Dutch Courage

Jack’s POV

Yeah, so it’s a bribe and I know he knows it. But he’s gonna need something to hold onto while they’re poking and prodding at his brain. Because I’m damn sure there’s going to be a whole heck of a lot of poking and prodding going on, and maybe not just his brain.

Daniel, in his adult manifestation, never tolerated that well. I can imagine the hell it’s going to be for him in this manifestation, especially since it’s likely to be his two latest nemeses doing it.

Thor’s been least in sight the last few weeks. No more friendly beamings-in to borrow Dr. Jackson for a day or two, which naturally makes me wonder if he’s been working up to this agenda from the beginning.

I suppose in the interests of intergalactic harmony I should refrain from accusing him of lying to me, but I sure have every intention of asking him point blank why he let this happen. 

In the meantime, Carter and Teal’c are coming for dinner and I have a few minutes to kill before I need to start anything, so I go in search of my kid. “Hey, whatcha doing?”

He’s half-propped against the wall staring at the Khafra pyramid on the wall across from his bed, though I don’t think he’s seeing anything in the room.

“Waiting,” he responds, without batting an eye.

“You could come out into the living room and wait with me,” I suggest. “Or you could take a nap. Could be a long night, ya know.”

His head turns and he blinks at me, as though he’s only just realized I’m standing here. “Jack?”

“What?”

Daniel slides off the bed and totters over to me on legs that belong on a toddler; which tells me there’s something going on here I need to pay attention to. Automatically I hunker down on my heels.

“What if we get caught?”

This close I can see the pulse fluttering wildly at his throat and it occurs to me – d’oh – all this bravado has been a façade. Right now he’s just a terrified little kid, worried half-sick we’re going to get caught.

“We didn’t before,” I offer. “Why do you think we might now?”

He hesitates, shrugs, and mumbles, “Well, there will be four of us this time, which exponentially increases the odds of getting caught.”

“Are you forgetting it also exponentially decreases the amount of time we’ll be out, which proportionally decreases the odds of getting caught? Besides, Carter and Teal’c are old hands at this kind of operation.”

His small hands get shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and both shoulders come up around his ears. “But what if I get caught alone?”

“Ahhhh,” I acknowledge, wondering why I didn’t think of this before. “That’s not going to happen.” I pull him between my knees so our faces are only inches apart. “First of all, we’re not going to leave you alone. Second, you were great at this before and now that you’re smaller you can melt that much easier into the shadows.” 

From the frown that flits across the expressive features I realize smallness equals even more vulnerable in these circumstances. 

“Listen, Daniel, if something goes wrong and we do get caught, I want you to promise me you _will_ fade into the shadows. One of us needs to be free to call the General to bail us out. Promise me?” When he nods slowly, I give him a grin and a quick hug. “Don’t forget to make sure your cell is charged and in a pocket, please.” On reflection, I think a little Dutch courage could go a long way toward settling that pulse. “I suppose being drunk off your ass last time might have helped these pre-mission jitters. Come on, let’s go find the scotch.” I scoop him up and leverage both of us to a standing position, creaking joints and all. His arms go instinctively around my neck, though he pulls back to look at me in disbelief.

“You’re actually going to let me have scotch?”

“Sure, a teaspoonful, with lots of ice and water.”

“Can I have it with club soda instead of water?”

“You betcha. One word of this to Frasier, though, and your drinking days are over, my friend. Got that?”

He nods, grinning happily, and I think again how little it takes to make him happy in either manifestation. Wonder why it’s so easy to lose track of that with the adult manifestation.

So, yeah, I’m not above bribery in soliciting cooperation. We’re doing this tonight because Daniel asked and I owe him for making him go to Frasier’s to begin with. But we’re also doing this because if we’re successful, I’m hoping it will be the confidence booster he needs before he gets his feet swept out from under him again.

More and more I’m coming to the conclusion Daniel and Destiny have an appointment. I could wish we had a little more intel to go on, working blind is never fun, but as long as he’s willing to follow the path, Carter, Teal’c, and I have every intention of sticking like glue.

After all, even the next quantum leap in humanity needs someone covering his six.

~*~

Special Ops V - The Mission

Operation Stealth Reindeer

“Daniel!” I hiss, peering through heavily falling snow to where my kid last was. What in the name of Baal was I thinking of when I agreed to do this? “Daniel? Where are you?”

“I’m right here,” he grunts, trudging out of the gloom into my line-of-sight. “They’re a lot bigger than I remembered.”

Oh for cryin’ out loud! The thing is three times his size! The only reason he can pick it up is because they’re made out of grapevines and weigh next to nothing. One misstep though and both the deer and Dr. Jackson are done for.

What could I possibly have been thinking?!

“Don’t move, and I mean don’t move from that spot, Daniel. If you do, that’s it, we’re done, and we’re not attempting this again. I’m going to go get their extension cords. I mean it, don’t move!” I repeat, just in case the first two times didn’t sink in. 

“I’m not moving. I get it. But hurry! It’s cold standing still!”

It’s snowing hard – which is good – Daniel, in his snow-camo, blends into the night like an artic hare in a snow storm – and bad – Daniel, in his snow-camo, blends into the night like an artic hare in a snow storm. I’m having a hard time keeping track of all my snow-camo clad teammates in this mess. Teal’c and Carter I’m not too worried about; though Carter, strangely, keeps breaking into little dance steps every now and then. 

Twice she’s snatched up Daniel and whirled around with him like they were caught in a devil dervish, both of them laughing hysterically, though without a sound. 

I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole. If Daniel lets her do it, more power to both of ‘em.

She looms up on my left as I rejoin Daniel, who is, extraordinarily, exactly where I left him. 

“Teal’c has three more, sir. We ready to make the trip to the school yet?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Daniel, put the deer down and let me grab the front end. You grab the back end.”

“I’ve got it,” he insists, shifting the thing awkwardly.

“What if you trip?”

“Well, then,” he laughs softly, “we have a deer to replace. Come on, let’s go.”

Carter giggles like a debutante, but hoists her two prisoners higher and starts off, scuffing her boots through the knee-high snow to make a path.

We’ve got the first eight. According to Daniel’s map there are forty-seven more deer and at least sixteen more houses. We’ve hit three so far in just under twenty minutes – so that’s not so bad – only a couple of hours.

Daniel calculated it shouldn’t take us more than three, even factoring in weather issues and his midget stature. In looking at the logistics, I thought that was pretty optimistic, but maybe not.

He was correct in his estimation of Teal’c’s ability to collect as many as four deer at a time which means he can clean up one yard in an easy pass, while I go behind collecting the extension cords and at least one more yard in the bargain. Carter’s capable of a two-hostage yard by herself and Daniel’s got the one-deer lawns covered, so it looks like, depending on the number of deer in any given yard - and there are no yards with more than four this year - we can do this four to six yards at a run. His estimate of under three hours could be right on target. 

All right, so long as I can keep track of our kid, we’ll be fine. I blow out a sigh of relief and lengthen my stride to catch up with Daniel who’s managed to pull ahead by several yards, trotting along behind Carter as if her path was a trail of bread crumbs – or maybe chocolate.

“Vehicle coming.” Teal’c’s voice drifts back to me, echoing eerily inside an eddy of snow that swirls around me, briefly obscuring my vision. When the curtain lifts again, none of my teammates are to be seen, except there’s a deer’s head bobbing merrily along behind the waist high hedge.

“Daniel, get your deer down! Stop if you have too!” 

Depositing my own deer hastily over the hedge, I have to dive for the nearest snow bank and hope the plume in the headlights looks like it came from the passing car.

“Clear,” Teal’c signals a couple minutes later, as my crew reconvenes on the sidewalk. “Perhaps we should stay behind the hedge, O’Neill.”

“Ya think?” 

Spitting snow – and who knows what else – I finally find the spot in the hedge they all went through and collect my detainees, falling back into standard recon formation as we start out again. Teal’c taking point, Carter behind him, Daniel in the middle between me and my 2IC.

It’s only a little after 11:00 o’clock. We’re still getting the stragglers from the 2 – 10 swing-shift. This is the third time we’ve had to dodge headlights.

In front of me, Daniel shifts his unwieldy burden and stumbles, missing his footing, or just plain sliding in the snow, but manages to catch himself – and the deer – before they both take a header. 

The sound of his sharply drawn breath grates on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. I have no hands to catch him and no possible way of breaking his fall if he goes down.

“Next trip, we share the damn deer,” I whisper loudly.

“I’ll partner with Daniel, sir,” Carter sends back quietly. “That way, between us we can probably manage four.”

“If it works, great.” I see her do another one of those little jiggity jog steps like she’s got ants-in-her pants or something. “Carter, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, sir. Just having the time of my life! Thank you so much for letting Teal’c and me in on this!”

“Are you nuts? We’re running around stealing deer in a snow storm and you’re thanking me?”

“You have no idea, sir, what this means to me,” she laughs. 

The low, throaty chuckle, sexy as hell, floats back to me. Ahemmm . . . I don’t have thoughts like that about my 2IC. 

Well – not regularly anyway.

“Sam?” Daniel skips forward a little faster. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Yep,” Carter trills with hushed merriment. “I spilled a little inside my pack, there’s a thermos of Starbucks with your name on.”

Daniel moans theatrically. “When I grow up again, will you marry me? ‘Cause I love you to death already!”

“I figured it was a special occasion and Janet doesn’t need to know,” she whispers over her shoulder. “Speaking of Janet, she and General Hammond think we’re skiing tonight. We need to get our story straight so we’re all on the same page tomorrow.”

“Skiing, Carter? We actually managed to convince Daniel to go skiing?”

“How far back do you wish to place the deer, O’Neill?”

We’re at the school already? 

Sure enough, the hedge on our left has petered out. Momentarily we’re going to have to cross the street and work our way up the tree-line on the west side of the playground. 

“The generator’s about ten feet into the tree-line fifty yards up the playground – so – middle-ish.”

“Wait, I will reconnoiter the other side and signal when it is clear to cross the street.”

“And we’re . . . waiting.”

“Shhhhh, Jack,” Daniel giggles, sounding a lot like Carter. “You’ll give us all away.”

An owl hoot hangs on the night air, captured and reborn as if the snow flakes are echoing the call. 

We move forward immediately, no telling how long the all-clear will last, sending Daniel straight across the street and into Teal’c’s waiting care. Carter and I cross together, blurs, I’m sure, even if someone were out to see us, in the wildly whirling snow storm.

There are sighs and grunts aplenty as we unburden ourselves, and while Carter and I rig up the power strips to the small, purring generator, Daniel darts around directing Teal’c how to _settle_ the herd so it looks natural.

“We’re not plugging them in yet, are we? Not until they’re all here and we can light them all at once? Right? We don’t want anyone to notice them until we’re ready. And when we do plug ‘em in, we gotta be ready to hit the road, Jack, and get home as quickly as we can, right?” Daniel repeats, slinging an arm around the neck of the nearest deer. The top of his head doesn’t quite reach the tip of the antlers.

“Right.” I only hope we can find our way home through the woods with it snowing as heavily as it is. It never occurred to me to bring a GPS unit. But that’s a hurdle for later. 

We’re only twenty-five minutes into this and already we have eight deer artistically arranged so they’re grazing gracefully about the lawn, ready to light up at the flick of a switch.

Only forty-seven to go.

An hour later, we’re more than halfway done and Daniel gets his coveted Starbucks, in a mug with Rudolph on the side. We’re back in the shelter of the trees and Carter tells Daniel to hold his flashlight up so he can watch the side of the mug as she pours coffee into it. 

Rudolph’s nose starts blinking on and off as the coffee heats up the mug and Daniel snorts back a laugh. “Where did you find this, Sam?” he immediately wants to know. “It’s hilarious!” This is directly followed by a long sigh and something very close to a purr from Daniel as he savors his first mouthful. “I really hope you’ll wait for me to grow up again, so I can marry you,” he murmurs, nose buried in the coffee cup, as much for warmth now, as pleasure, I suspect, since his teeth are chattering faster than the neighborhood speed limit.

The rest of us get insulated Styrofoam; yeah, yeah, bad for the local land fill, I know, not to mention the hole in the ozone. So sue us, it’s lighter and better for stealth than four clinking mugs.

“So,” I ask the youngest, and now smallest, member of the team, “you ready to call it quits? We’ve got a good-sized herd here already,” I offer, hunkering down behind Daniel and pulling him gently between my knees to give him a little extra body-warmth at least.

“I’m not tired,” he instantly declaims. 

“Excuse me? Did the words – are you tired, or you look tired – come out of my mouth?”

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “No, I don’t want to quit until we’re done.

“Okay, it’s your call, but I’d like you to tell me if you do get tired, or too cold, before we’re done, okay?”

Daniel gives this several moments thought before nodding. “Okay, I can agree to that,” he says, snuggling back against me while he finishes his coffee.

I’m getting better at this negotiating stuff and Daniel’s doing better with understanding and accepting the limitations of this new manifestation. 

While he did sleep some this evening after dinner, he’s usually been in bed asleep for several hours by this time. I know he’s tired. But pluck to the back bone and not going to give in until he drops in his tracks. I hope we’re done before that happens.

We’re well ahead of schedule just under an hour later, and we’ve got one more house – one more doggone house – when an almost lazy circle of lights, followed too quickly by a powerful search light, colors the street we’re on red.

“Oh, crap! Scramble!” I order. “Teal’c, take Daniel and make for home the quickest way possible. Go, go, go!”

Fortunately, this is our last trip, I should have made them wait for me at the playground, but Daniel said he was too cold to stand still and insisted on coming along, so we all came back for these final two deer. 

“Go around the back, Carter, you can cut through yards, just don’t forget the house with the dogs that go nuts! Get everybody dry and changed as quickly as possible so if for some reason the cops do come visiting, there’s no evidence. Go!”

She takes a step forward, toward me, then two steps back, and disappears into the snow.

Swishing a foot through the most visible tracks, I drift back toward the house and the built-in shadows of the eaves and porch, hoping whoever it is will stick to the road.

If it’s Sheriff Ron, he’s likely to give it a pass. Probably figures its neighborhood kids pulling this prank and won’t be too keen to get anyone in trouble. On the other hand, if it’s Deputy Phil, he was hot to solve this mystery two years ago, if he sniffs us out, there’ll be hell to pay.

Oh, well – que se ra, se ra. 

Useless as it is, I can feel the tension building as the squad car cruises slowly up the street. 

Crap! 

And slows to a crawl as the search light plays over the lit deer still grazing in this yard.

I drift slowly back into the darker shadows of the side yard as the squad car pulls into the driveway, red lights staining the light-colored siding on the house. 

The last house and we’d been waiting nearly fifteen minutes before the lights finally went out. It’s two in the morning, people! What the hell are you doing up at this hour of the night?

You’re ruining our perfect record!

The house occupants haven’t been in bed long enough, the damn lights are bound to bring them out to investigate – and sure enough, I hear the grating sound of the front door scraping open.

Two seconds later, both the driver and passenger doors of the squad car open and two cops step out – by height and weight, neither of them Sheriff Ron. 

Damn.

“Evening, Officers. Bit late to be prowling the neighborhood isn’t it?” the male half of this home owner duo inquires. 

I know him by sight, but not by name, we exchange waves when our vehicles pass on the street.

“Sorry to disturb you, Malcolm.”

“The wife and I had just turned in actually. We saw the lights, didn’t realize you were in our driveway though. Is there a problem?”

There’s a distinct bulge in the pocket of the robe with the hand in it. We’re a military neighborhood, friendly for the most part, though not so much when you’re trespassing at 2:00 in the morning. 

“It’s me, Mal, Phil. Tom’s riding with me tonight.”

For cryin’ out loud! Ron’s fabled hot shots. Just what I don’t need tonight. 

“Just noticed you were the only house in the neighborhood with your deer still lit up.”

“Yeah? So? That a crime now? We always leave ‘em on all night long.”

“No crime,” Officer Phil chuckles. “Your electric bill after all. Just wondering if you’d heard anything around outside, any unexplained noises, happen to look out your window and see anything unusual?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Why?”

“Well, looks like our deer herder might have been out again tonight. Mind if we hang around awhile? See if anyone comes calling?”

Well, that’s it. I wanted those two deer, if only for Daniel’s sake, but we’ll have to settle tonight, though it occurs to me, a bit of a diversion might do the trick. If the howling dogs two houses over somehow got loose . . . wonder if I can still open a lock with a credit card?

Another forty-five minutes sees me slipping in through the garage door. I can hear vehicles rumbling down the street. I bury my wet boots and snow gear under a pile of old newspapers in the back of the garage, though I seriously doubt there will be any further investigation tonight – or any other night for that matter.

However, Operation Stealth Reindeer is now officially in retirement, unless by some miracle Daniel grows up overnight and wants to do this again as an adult. We are sooooo not doing this again with kid Daniel.

He whirls around – he was standing in the recliner, nose pressed to the window – as I close the kitchen garage door behind me, and vaults out of the chair to race across the room. He slams into my legs with the force of a hurricane gale, rebounds, and throws his arms around my thighs to steady himself. “I was sure you’d been caught! What’s going on? Are you alright?” He pulls back enough to look me over, but continues with barely a pause, “Did you get the last two? Are we going back? What’s happening? _Did_ you get caught?”

“We were beginning to worry a little, sir.”

“You protracted absence was mildly disconcerting, O’Neill.”

“No, I didn’t get caught.” I pick up Daniel and settle him on a hip. “I’m fine, and yes, I got the last two. Satisfied?”

“No!” Daniel screeches – softly. “What’s going on? Cars have been going up and down the street for the last hour.”

“It’s a parade. The entire neighborhood is getting up to see the herd of deer grazing on the school playground.”

“You got them lit?”

“Of course I got them lit. You think I’d have come home without finishing the job?”

“But that cop car was headed right in your direction!” Daniel thumps a tiny fist against my shoulder. “What happened, Jack? Tell us!”

“On the way. Go change into you p.j.’s so we can join the parade. Carter, Teal’c, you might want to look less like you’re getting ready to go home and more like you’re spending the night, because you are, by the way. Especially if driving down to the school is as bad as I think it’s going to be. Let me go change into some sweats.”

“Hurry, hurry,” Daniel orders imperiously. “I don’t want to miss any more of this than I have too!”

“How come you’re still awake?” I toss back over my shoulder as I shuffle down the hall.

“We allowed him to imbibe a further teaspoon of alcohol,” Teal’c intones. “It appears to have the opposite effect on this DanielJackson as it does on the adult DanielJackson.”

“Right, I’d figured that out already. And you gave him more?” We are so not going to work in the morning. I doubt the skiing scenario will work if I’m sporting a hung-over Dr. Jackson. “Hey, if he wakes up puking in the middle of the night, one of you is getting up with him. I’m not taking the blame for this one!” I holler back down the hall.

“I’m not sick,” Daniel huffs indignantly. “I feel great! Hurry up and get changed so we can go!”

Where’ve I heard that line before? 

As we’re climbing into the truck ten minutes later, Carter’s coat falls open exposing an incongruous pair of pink, frilly pajamas.

I’m sorry, I can’t help myself, my eyes nearly pop out of my head. “Carter?”

“Sir?”

“Frou frou _and_ pink? I had no idea you had it in you.” I just shake my head and slide behind the wheel.

She, however, has a ready, if bizarre, answer. “It’s my prom dress, sir.”

I’m not even going to ask.

~*~


End file.
